Abandonment (Short Story)
by Ciel0307
Summary: Original story taking place as a spin off of Turtlegir13 Pieces of the Past (Check it out) otherwise its the story of a man whose life was torn apart by a girl 15 years prior, and he still has yet to pick up the pieces.


The sun cast his long arms through my bedroom window, gently waking me up. I rise slowly out of my bed careful not to disturb those sleeping next to me. My children had nightmares last night, so of course my wife brought them to sleep in our bed. As I cross the room headed to the head, I take a moment to pause and enjoy the beautiful view from our third floor NYC apartment overlooking central park. Silently, I tiptoe into my kitchen, to whip up a quick breakfast of french toast for the family; I figure we can all have breakfast in bed together while we catch the saturday morning cartoons.

Carefully, I bring up the tray full of food, trying desperately not to spill a drop of orange juice. I smile, admiring the sleeping faces of my family, so peaceful, so serene. Unfortunately that's gonna change very soon, unable to hold it in anymore I excitedly shout to my family to wake up, but something is off, the voice coming out of my mouth doesn't sound like mine it's deeper, more gravelley. Also it doesn't come out sweet like i had planned it to, instead it came out more authoritative, like an order. It was this moment where I realized that none of this was real…

I awake to my roommate shaking me vigorously, yelling at me to get up.

"Your alarm's been going off for freaking hours man get the fuck up"

"The hell do you mean, get the fuck off of me," I swipe his hands from my shoulders.

"I mean that your goddamn alarm, you hear me, a-larm, A-L-A-R-M," he spells it out, "has been going off for three freaking hours"

"What the ever living shit do you mean? I don't hear anything over the sound of you screaming in my face"

"You sure it's me, maybe it's you, you're so freaking old you probably need hearing aides."

"Prick," I breath, as he begins to walk out of the room

"Heard that. Just turn your freaking phone off, Pops. "

I take a moment to assemble myself, or what's left of it, after years of the shit I've done to it. A quick search around my bed locates my phone, and honest to goodness the damned alarm is still going off. I stare at my phone as it sits in my hand violently vibrating in a rhythmic pattern, followed by the loud calls of sirens.

"You gonna turn that shit off or not?!" Yells you know who from across the apartment.

As you can see my roommate is a douche. In the douchiest way possible. But at least he has a job and makes rent, at this point that's all that matters. Let's see, you'll probably want to know some basic facts about me. Well for starters, I'm 32 turning 33 this summer. I live in a trashy apartment in the worst part of the city. I work a minimum wage job earning barely enough to buy food. You're probably wondering how this relates to my earlier dreams, well it doesn't, but in a way it does. I mean, why would I trade a fantastic life for a real shitty one, ya know? Truth is I didn't want this life, the one you saw before is the one I really wanted. But that was just a dream I had back in my senior year of high school when I met the girl I wanted to spend my life with. But that girl taught me many things about myself, and I learned many things from her. Most importantly that dreams were just that dreams, pleasant to look at, and so very easy to break. You may be wondering how I had learned that from a sweet, little girl like her, don't worry I'll tell you in due time. For now, back to the story.

After TURNING OFF the alarm (you're welcome douchey roommate), I sit there and stare at my phone again looking at the time, which reads 10:47 AM. Something doesn't line up here why would I set my alarm for around 8:00 AM? I don't go into work until 12:00 PM. So why did I…? Shit. I had a big interview today at an actual job. Why is it everytime I try to better myself it always ends up making it worse?

It was at this point that the shitty day that I was having began to get worse due to that stupid little device in my hands.

As I sat there and stared at my phone, it rang. But the name that came up on the caller id, was one that I hadn't seen in a long time, and frankly one that I didn't want to talk to right now.

His name was Tarik, in high school he was one of my closest friends, ever since 10th grade. But after the incident with my girlfriend we lost touch. He went on to a bigger and brighter future, while I stayed and stagnated hoping for my life to return. Sadly it didn't, and I was stuck in a rut on rock freaking bottom. All thanks to my girlfriend, or rather ex-girlfriend. You see, I loved her more than anybody else I had ever known, and supposedly she had felt the same way. Evidently she didn't. Else she wouldn't have left me broken, without even uttering a single syllable that she would.

Here's how it went down. It was senior year, we flirted throughout the first semester. Picking at each other, our friends picking at us. Then with the advent of a new semester, it became us, instead of me and her. Both of us were extensively busy, I had to do chores, plus my parents never let me go anywhere; while she always had work. There was hardly a day where we could get together outside of school. So we improvised, we went on mini-dates during school hours since we both had study hall together. It wasn't much but we made the best with what we had.

The end of the year was fast approaching. She was headed off to a technical institute for music down in Tennessee, and I was enlisting to be Marine. Granted we'd be apart for a while, but we knew that we'd be together later in life. Or so I thought.

School ended and we couldn't see each other much. I had restrictive parents, while she had a busy schedule at work. But we both knew that we'd be together one last time at graduation before I left for boot camp.

Graduation came and went like that. *snaps fingers* She wasn't there. She didn't show up. Everything seemed fine the day before so why would she not come? I had thought to myself.

So I went to her house to find the answer. When I got there I was greeted by her gruff but respectable step-father.

"Can I help you?" he said

I tried to not look intimidated as I said, "Hello, my name's Chris, I'd like to talk to Alexa if that's alright"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to leave, bud."

"Why, what's wrong? Did something happen? Is Alexa alright?"

"Jim, just tell him dear," her mother said emptily from the other room, "he deserves to know the truth just as much as anyone else."

"What are we supposed to tell him?" he growled from the doorway.

"The truth dear, just bring him in here."

So I was guided into the living room by the stepfather, and motioned to sit across from them.

Her mother started,

"Dear, I'm not quite sure how to say this, but Alexa is gone."

Her voice sounded like it was near the point of breaking, and her eyes on the verge of tears. The redness around her eyes, along with the ready box of tissues at her side, told me that she had been doing a lot of crying over the past hours.

"What?! I don't understand! How could she be gone?" unease rising in my voice.

"What's there not to understand? She's gone. She left. No longer here. Now I'm going to ask you one more time to leave." Her stepfather chimed in.

"But, I still don't get it. Why did she just leave? She was … We were…" I looked up at them, while my chest felt like it was ripping in two. One half to go find her, and the other to too busy mourning to move.

Of course in life, one side is always stronger than the other. I moved, I moved faster than I ever had before, or so it felt. Time became an odd thing in the ensuing hours. I slipped into sensory overload, tunnel vision, numbness, you name it I was probably feeling it. Anger, sadness, rage, confusion, grief, loathing, pain, well you get the idea. I was more emotional than a hormonal 16 year old on her period.

So I ran, and I kept running. I didn't stop until I was all the way across town. At this tower that was built as a memorial for the Native Americans. I stood at the tallest part of the tower looking over the entire town (Author's Note: The tower is only about one story tall, but it sits on top of the tallest portion of the small town I grew up in.) As I sat there I contemplated the meaning of life, and wondered why some special being, if there is one, hated me so much. I could feel the chill of the early summer evening on my skin, but I didn't really notice or seem to care. All I wanted to know was what I had done. What had I done to make her leave. Or what hadn't I done. Agh it was all so confusing, I had no idea what to do, where to go. I just knew..., I knew that it wasn't over. I would keep moving, look for her, wait for her, whatever it took I would get her back.

So I looked, and looked some more. So with that, I didn't find her. I mean if I wasn't leaving for basic training a week later, I could've done so much more. So it was not to be, apparently.

A week passed by in the blink of an eye, and I left for basic training. Those three months passed by, and I heard not a word from anyone. I came home for ten days and sat around broken and empty inside. I felt like a shell, a hollowed-out form of what was once a person. That's how I went through life for my four years in the Marine Corps. And then the next eleven years after that living as a civilian. Which brings us to today, and this god-forsaken phone ringing in my hand.

I decide to answer,

"Chris L. Local example of life wasted. How may I help you?"

"Chris, I need your help, you see…"

"Well hello to you to Tarik" I interrupt, "How's the wife and kids. Me? Oh you needn't ask; I'm doing just fine."

"Listen, I don't have time for your self-loathing bullshit, just fucking listen to what I'm about to say."

I sigh, "Alright fine. What could be so important that you decide to call me out of the blue fifteen years later?"

"It's about Alexa."

I stop. Literally freeze in place. Everything around me feels cold and distant. Chills descend my spine, giving me goosebumps.

"Who?" I ask just to be sure.

"Don't fucking play dumb with me, Chris. You know exactly who I'm talking about."

"Okay, okay. What about her? What is it you want to say?"

"She's back…, and we need your help."

"Fuck you," I spit, "You think I give a fuck if you think you need help. Where was the help I needed fifteen years ago!? And now you not only that, but you say that Alexa is back, and all of a sudden she needs my help too. Where was she anyway?!Fifteen years, fifteen fucking years Tarik. Why the fuck should I care if you fucks need help?"

"Where have I been!? Seriously!? Chris, the fuck have you been, huh? You fucking left for Basic Training, and not a word has been heard from you since. Communication is a fucking two way street."

At this time I was seething, who the fuck he just to randomly call saying he needed help. And not only was it just him, but also Alexa. Two people I wanted to see the least, and yet a part of me wished for the days of old where not a care in the world was had.

"Now you listen here..." I start.

"No Chris you listen," A different voice, terse and feminine, "12:00 Central Park."

*Click*

…

"You think he'll come?" Tarik asked as she hung up the phone.

"He'll come."

"Do we really even need him?"

"..." She contemplated for a moment. A stern kind of sadness in her eyes.

"Alexa?"

"Yes, we do."

"But, why?"

"He's one of the many missing pieces to this puzzle."

…

Well fuck, now I'm left with no choice. I mean yeah i could've ignored the call and was planning on it until she jumped on the phone. That bitch knew I wouldn't ignore the call if she talked to me, fifteen years later and she still knows how to get me. But this time I'm not going for her, hell no, I'm going to get mine, to somehow get back that piece of me that I lost long ago.

Frustrated I throw my phone across the room; it makes a dull thud as it hits the wall.

"Get in an argument with your friends, did you?" Inserts the douchey roommate out of nowhere, "Surprise really, I didn't think you had friends."

God I hate this apartment I think to myself.

Seeing as how it was already 11:00, I got up and prepared for the long day ahead of me. Soon enough I was making my way out the door, phone in hand, with a map loading.

"Ooh, got a hot date do we? It couldn't possibly be that phone call from earlier, could it?" And here's the douchey roomate, again.

"You should really learn to mind your own business and stop being a prick. You might actually get some friends in life." I retort.

He shrugs it off, "fuck that shit, all other people do is cause problems."

"Eighteen and you've already got life figured out, keep it up kid." I state, sarcasm dripping from my words, as I close the door behind me.

…

11:30

…

It takes fifteen minutes, at a brisk pace to walk to central park. She didn't really tell me where to meet, or who to look for, so I'm kinda at a loss here. Really rushed into this one blind, huh? I figure that they have a plan to find me anyway.

I take in the scenery around me. The air is crisp; sunbeams shine through my breath as I exhale. Eventually, i decide to sit on a quaint bench, shaded by some small saplings. People keep moving on by. Walking their pets, jogging, taking a romantic stroll, all enjoying, scratch that all experiencing life. Whereas, I am here struggling against it.

"Is this seat taken?" A tall, dark man asks.

"Have a sea-... Oh well hello Tarik."

End


End file.
